


Nothing In This World

by handlewithkara



Series: A Boy And His Comet: Roads Not Taken [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Alternate Universe, Clubbing, Crossdressing, F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs, Secret Identity, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-03-20 03:18:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18984148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handlewithkara/pseuds/handlewithkara
Summary: Wherein Kara and Mon-El attend a Daxamite dance club.





	Nothing In This World

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Boy and his Comet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17769521) by [handlewithkara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/handlewithkara/pseuds/handlewithkara). 



> This is a What If? to my AU story A Boy and His Comet, with the basic premise that Krypton and Daxam weren't destroyed and Kara is on a secret mission on Daxam, dressed up as a boy and Mon-El pursues her while still thinking that she's a boy. This story is for everyone who was getting frustrated with the slow progression in that story, which is owed mostly to Kara's lack of experience. 
> 
> _What if Kara was a lot more experienced and bold in what she was willing to do to keep up her cover?_  
>     
> This story also varies from Boy and His Comet in that rather than being stuck on a remote outpost, Kara is Mon-El's bodyguard right there in the capital city.

The hard, driving beat thrummed through Kara’s body. She was surprised at how sappy the lyrics were as a male voice exclaimed jubilantly the superior qualities of his lover and how he would lay down his life _for you, only for you._ Mon-El watched her with a smile, then leaned in, close to her ear. “That’s so gonna be on the index tomorrow,” he yelled.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her in closer. His hand curled around the nape of her neck. In the darkness, interrupted only by strobing light, his teeth glinted. His hips rolled against her, forcing her into a rhythm with him.

“I don’t dance,” she yelled. At least not like this, to this music.

“You’re gorgeous,” he yelled back, their voices lost in the pulsating noise. Around them the large screens covering the walls and ceiling burst into color, showing mountains erupting, desert ground splitting as ancient monuments rose to touch the sky while the crescendo of the chorus washed over them. _Tear the veil, your beauty all-encompassing._

Maybe that too was Daxam, Kara thought. Party hard, who knows whether the world will still stand tomorrow. Listening to the songs, maybe she had underestimated their desire for forlorn tragic love stories to distract them from their violent and voracious lives. The blaring music, the all-permeating, sweet smelling smoke, it was turning her head foggy.

_Dance, my beauty, even gods have never loved like this._

She turned around, to get a better view of the bodies surrounding them. Mon-El’s arms wrapped around her and she felt his lips on the back of her neck. Their hips rocked together, in tune with the shifting, moving mass around them. As he expected of his people, he made no secret out of his arousal, self-confidently letting her feel its full extent. His hands wandered upwards, stroking her sides, right where the side of her breasts would be, underneath the rigid body armor that protected her, not just from violence. She caught his hands, covering them with hers, to lead them down again to her midriff. Kara sensed his consternation, but he relented, his fingers hooking into the loops of her belt. People swarmed them, greeting him, kissing him, all the while his hips rocked against her. There were almost no women in the club, just endless masses of young, nubile men, hungry for life.

Suddenly the sky above them opened. The towering dome split. Beacons of light shot into the air, painting the night, as if they wanted to send a signal to the universe “Yes, hear us, we are here.” _Your love, a revelation. No fate will part us._ At the same time, water and confetti exploded in the air, dousing them. Kara gasped in surprise, but she couldn’t keep herself from laughing. The club around her roared, arms thrust in the air as jubilant cries spurred on by the music sought to make themselves heard. Kara turned around. Mon-El was laughing with her, completely soaked. Glimmering confetti had caught in his hair and she cupped his face to kiss him. Even though he kissed her back, it was like his laugh continued into their kiss. She felt his pulse hammer against the side of his throat as she stroked it with her palm. _Nothing in this world compares to my devotion to you._ Was that what they believed in? True love, only for a single night?

For one breathless moment, the music halted, the beat dropped, only for the sound to roar up again along the long hall, like a giant aircraft thundering ahead over their heads.  _Break the walls, tear the veil._ He was going to try to fuck her anyway, Kara reasoned with herself. It was only a matter of time. She had been his bodyguard for only a short while, and he hadn’t made a move on her yet. Instead, he teased her from afar, parading his other lovers in front of her, giving her long, quizzical looks to gauge her reaction. Sometimes he stood too close, hand on her shoulder, his voice dipping into a slower register, his breath caressing the back of her neck. Most of all it was those looks, like he was puzzled by her. In a lot of ways, they were a nuisance. She was here on a mission. She absolutely did not need this additional scrutiny.

When she had taken on this job, she had offered her mouth to the prince’s master of ceremony, as a thank you for the new posting. It was mostly an unpleasant matter, but something she was willing to do for the sake of her cause. As a Kryptonian, more so as a rogue spy without orders, without support, she was risking a lot by appearing as a boy. Knowing Daxamite customs, Kara had expected to be approached by the prince. It was just the way things were done here. After all, he was the party prince. Kara had estimated that he would try her out when she entered his employ and then discard her as his roving eye was pulled in by other distractions. It had always been a risk, but she had been hopeful that her hands or lips would be enough to fill that role without raising suspicion.

If one thought about it, Mon-El not approaching her was almost like a subtle insult, or another test to draw her out of position. In a lot of ways, he confused her. Having gotten to know him, he wasn’t mean spirited normally from what she could tell. There was no reason for him to treat her differently. And yet he did, almost giving her more attention by pointedly ignoring her. She remembered the first time she saw him and he asked her name. Ever since he refused the one she gave him then, the name of her cover identity, and made a show of always calling her with his chosen nickname.

 _Comet._ He always smiled to himself when he said it. Like it was a secret joke that she wasn’t in on. He was teasing her.

Well, today that was going to change. Here, with her neck craned back to meet him, with his arms slung around her, mouth on her mouth, his tongue against her tongue, moving against the beat completely in sync as if they were the only people on the dance floor. Mon-El pulled out of their kiss. He looked at her, almost regretfully, eyes laden with desire. His lips brushed against her ear. “Let’s fuck,” he said.

In lieu of a reply Kara pulled his hand against her lips, gently laving his knuckles with her tongue, her gaze sinking deep into his, promising untold passions. With a quick move, she flipped his hand around and switched to tracing the inside of his palm with her tongue. She saw his eyes widen, the pulsating music around them suddenly just an afterthought.

Their fingers intertwined, Kara dragged him along, through the mass of dancing bodies, towards the facilities. The deep thump of the music dictated the rhythm of her heartbeat as she lead him. She turned around to face him. Before she could say anything, voice any order, Mon-El backed her against the wall, his mouth hot and wet against her throat. Their hips found each other as if drawn to each other. Kara jerked back.

_No._

She couldn’t have him find out the truth and if she wanted to stick with her cover story, she had to avoid contact like this. Resting her hands on his hips, she twirled him around, till he was turned looking towards the giant dome and his back facing the stream of bodies rushing from the facilities back towards the dance floor. Before he could stop her, she sank down in front of him. Her palms slid forward to the front of his pants, to come to a halt, to the left and right, framing his bulge. She looked up at him, wordlessly asking for permission.

Mon-El looked at her long and hard, his eyes full of unanswered questions. At last, he responded with an almost imperceptible nod. With deft fingers she opened his pants, each button a small battle of its own, eventually revealing the silky sheen of his undergarments. Kara leaned in, her nose pressed against him, taking in the heady aroma. She mouthed him through the fine fabric, wetting it with her saliva, feeling the heat, the tension. Her lips followed the way it curved, as her fingers teased. Hooking her index finger into the waistband of his boxers, Kara pulled them down, revealing just the tip, immediately nipping on it. With some gratification, she noted the reaction that flowed through him. Nibbling, brushing, stroking just the head as most of his member was still trapped in the prison of fine cloth, she smiled. That should teach him to tease her.

Around them, the crowd still ebbed and flowed. The main maelstrom of thrusting, dancing bodies only a few steps away, their little sidearm still writhed with movement. The mellifluous tunes from the main hall tried to worm themselves into her ears, the muted bass still strong enough to cause vibrations underneath their feet. Here the two of them were just a nameless obstacle, causing a break, an annoyed ripple in the passing exchange of visitors. Kara gripped Mon-El’s thigh with one hand, forcing him to stay like this, standing tall, denying them the chance for more privacy, more safety pressed up against the wall. Her other hand worked to free him fully this time. A little thrill coursed through her as she finally saw him at his full length.

Eyes closed, she took him into her mouth and tasted him. Though she knew that he could not hear her, she let out a deep-seated, exaggerated moan. Hopefully, her face would tell the same story. Kara opened her eyes to make sure. Satisfaction trickled through her, as she looked up to catch Mon-El’s eye. There was power in this, of him helpless in her mouth, balanced, controlled by her hand on his hips. He was vulnerable like this. A constant stream of people brushed past them back and fro, paying them no heed. A too harsh bump of a shoulder, an unplanned collision from a passerby… Kara gripped him tighter. She wanted him to feel the danger, wanted him to worry what her teeth might do to him. Contrasting her dark intentions, she sucked softly, only the tip, gentling it with her lips, eyelids falling closed again, presenting the image of a lover dutifully, rapturously caught up in their task, as her fingers dug into his thigh. She teased herself with it, almost as much as him, making it harder for herself to grasp him without the usage of her hand. Sometimes he escaped her, leaving her lips, scraping wetly along her cheek instead, exposing more of him.

She wouldn’t actually let him get hurt. After all, Kara had sworn to protect him and her parents had raised her to stand by her word. As long as she was with him, she wouldn’t let harm come to him. But she wanted him to worry.

_Mon-El._

Her heart thumped harder. She always called him that, in her mind. That’s who he was after all. Never >The Prince<, at least not to her, not to her secret thoughts. There, her egalitarian schooling took pleasure in denying him that honorific, insisting that he was no better than any of his peers.

Mon-El tried to grab the nape of her neck, to steady himself, to steer her mouth to take him deeper, but she growled and let him sense just the barest hint of teeth. He relented. It felt satisfying to have him at her mercy like this, pliant in her mouth, following her lead. Fair retribution for how he had teased her. She sensed his moment of surrender when his thigh relaxed. He braced himself against the wall, resigning himself to the danger their precarious position posed, opting to leave the fate of his manhood to her control rather than abandon her hot, welcoming mouth. As a reward, she took him deeper. Her hand caught the stem of his cock and she bent it, so she could kiss the underside. Kara’s lips burned wantonly, itching as she explored him. Her heart raced with the prospect of this strange victory.

 _Do you feel this?_ she thought, _Do you feel me?_

For a moment, the exploding music was replaced with only the sound of her beating heart. He was going to come. Into her mouth. Kara knew of Daxamite biology, a quirk of their evolution making their seed taste sweet. She didn’t expect him to differ in this regard. Still, her mind was curious, anticipating the moment when it would hit the back of her throat, of how she would suckle him, to fully taste it. Whether she liked it or not, he was the person she had spent the most time with here on Daxam. In a strange way, she had gotten used to it. Used to him. Used to his teasing, his eyes, his maddening presence.

 _“Do it,_ she thought as she tried to stroke the tension out of his muscles, felt his battle to hold back from thrusting toward, _Give it to me._ By now she did want it, waiting expectantly for the explosion of quintessential Mon-El flavor in her mouth. Kara had no delusions that her seduction skills were considered anything but dilettante on Daxam. But they were enough to get somebody off, as she knew from experience if all she had to provide was a warm and wet receptacle. This night, this place, she was going to be enough. She was going to be what he wanted. He was going to come and fill her throat, because she made him, because her mouth made him. Her hips jerked forward. Yeah, so she was wet for him, for this salacious act, for this game they were playing. For this game of lies she was playing with him, for the power it gave her. With a conscious decision, Kara let herself fall, into this act, into this scene. The music’s heavy bass thrummed through her, as his member pulsed in her mouth. She was the music, she was the song as she caressed him with her tongue.

When it happened, her body jerked in surprise as the warm strands hit the back of her mouth. Kara pulled back a bit instinctively. It was as sweet as she had imagined it would be. Knowing him, who he was, could it really have been any other way? There was a lot of it too. Her lips closed tightly around him. It was considered poor etiquette on Daxam to waste a noble’s cum. A rebellious streak inside her unfurled, but she was level headed and so only a drop escape. She looked up, the colorful beams illuminating her face. She knew that he knew, as he looked at her pensively, because his thumb caressed her chin. It found the drop and wiped it away, stroking it into her skin.

A little tremor ran through her. She felt it, in her nipples, between her legs, amplified by the driving music that assaulted her ears with unsettlingly alluring melodies, but she was strong, she was Kryptonian, she would not touch. Even as her mouth, now bereft of his cock, felt coarse.

He pulled her up slowly on her arm. Kara felt woozy, her knees gelatinous. She slid up with her back against the wall to keep herself steady enough not to crumble. Mon-El just came close, his arms to the left and right of her face, his body covering up hers completely from view, his mouth close to her ear.

“Dress me,” he murmured and despite the thundering sound of the music, she knew exactly what he said. Kara’s hands dropped down to his midriff, gripping him with one hand, while the other reached for his satiny, black boxers to pull them up and smooth them into place. Her fingers trembled as if they were loath to perform this injustice posed by hiding him from the world again. He smiled with soft humor as she fought to the buttons to close his pants. Kara looked up at him angrily. This was her victory. It was not his place to smile. Deftly, she crushed her mouth against his, forcing her tongue into his mouth, making him taste his own flavor. He laughed and caught her easily, his arms around her, his hand on her ass, no on his precious boy bodyguard’s ass. Her body trapped between his and the wall, she kissed him only angrier. Their tongues doing battle, stroking, dancing with the rhythm of the song, against the melody of the strobing lights.

 _Daxamite sybarite,_ Kara thought instinctively when he was first to pull out of the kiss, _You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve me._ He grabbed her dominant hand, the one she had caressed him with the most and pulled it to his lips. He kissed first her knuckles, then her fingers, then leaned in to deliver a soft peck to her lips. “Thank you,” he mouthed. She must have scowled at him, because Mon-El laughed, his teeth glinting in the darkness. Easily his hand intertwined with hers and he pulled her from the stability of her wall, back towards the surging crowds. His eyes sparkled with adventure, as he looked around, his smile advertising plainly to everyone what he had just received.

Inwardly Kara cursed his fast recovery time as she let herself be dragged back to the dance floor, stumbling on unsteady feet.


End file.
